the elders

There is a group of old politicos called The Elders who I only found out about recently. Its Madiba, Tutu, Jimmy Carter, some Scandewegian, the Ex Irish lady president, a whole bunch.　Because they are old and respected and not technically part of any government they can take a stand against big wold issues and speak their minds freely without recourse. Pretty cool. Well this weekend I hate a date with what felt like Mihara's answer to The Elders.

On friday afternoon, Gunch asked me if I woudlnt mind our daily lesson being a field trip today, after work. I said that sounded most excellent. At five o clock I met him in town and together we walked the short distance to his old friend Machan's okonomikayi shop. The shop is called Sachan, after his wife. It is a tiny eatery consisting of a long hotplate surrounded by stools. There is a wall of manga on one wall for patrons with no one to talk to I suppose, although in this place everyone knows everyone and conversation swings around the little place so rapidly I cannot imagine anyone having a moment, or the inclination to read. There is also a grotty seventies TV mounted in the corner. As it is sumo season, sumo was playing when we entered and it provided mild distraction and a conversation piece to the patrons.

Okonomiyaki, incase I havent explained previously, is a Hiroshima prefecture speciality. Batter is poured onto the huge iron hotplate and gently moulded into a paper thin crepe. on top is piled a mountain of cabbage, noodles, fish, meat and veggies. Once these have simmered down an egg is broken on top to form an omlette covering. Its doused in sauce, decorated with ginger, you are armed with a spatular and it used pushed toward you with a giant spatula. Voila. Dinner. The okonomiyaki Gunch and I shared had cuttlefish and strips of pork. It was delicious.

Gunch is 67. Machan and his wife are also 67 and they have all been friends for 50 years. Everyone else who came into the shop was introduced to me as being an old friend of Gunch's too and they all, it turns out were 67 with the exception of a tiny little old man who looked like a bean with enourmous spectacles who didnt like the fact thatI ate left handed. This bean could have been 95. He wore bright blue plaid golf pants. 67 year old no 4 wore a battered straw hat that made him look like he should be in the Caribbean. Machan had a pale yellow polo shirt and the beginnings of a Tom Sellek moustache.

Initially I did what has become my routine introductory performance. Lots of smiling, yes, I am from Africa! It is far, seventeen hours on a plane. Machan was particularly interested in South African currency and how long it took my to save the money to get to Japan and how much beer was in South Africa etc. Straw hat knew a lo0t about South Africa: Kimberly, the Cullinan diamond and Gary Player. But soon enough Gunch put an end to the prattle and settled down to our lesson which he scratched out on folded up flyers and bits of napkin (which I now have stored in a box of my most precious possessions). He explained to me that although you get okomiyaki all over Japan, the people of Hiroshima have a special attachment to it and he asked why I thought this was the case. 'Because!', he said (before I could answer), after the devastation of the war, and the bomb, people in Hiroshima had nothing to cook with, and nothing to eat with. Everything was destroyed. With no pots, no pans, no nothing they took to okonomiyaki because it requires no utensils at all and can be compiled out of anything - an egg, a scrap of fish, a bit of flour. He told me about his experience of the war; how his father (92 and going strong!) had not joined the army because he was a railway man; a valuable and necessary profession during the war. They had suffered massively from food shortages, everything that could be eaten was sent to the army. People had barely anything. I have just finished reading a manga by a man named Nakazawa called 'Barefoot Gen' about living in Hiroshima during the bomb and when I mentioned this Gunch nodded furiously. Yes, yes, he was just like Barefoot Gen! Ah! says a man with long orange hair and fingernails sittng at the other end of the shop, Barefoot Gen, yes! He read it in high school. This is how the evening progressed with people all over the tiny shop putting in their two cents worth and laughing while Machan furiously produced okonomiyaki and his wife poured beer.

I enjoyed myself most when my presence was forgotten and I could watch all the people just talking amongst themselves in rapid fire Japanese. I think they spoke for some time about a Russian competitor in the Sumo tournament. Gunch told me too about the throwing of salt I had witnessed at sports day that is an integral part of Sumo - it cleanses the arena and is a most ancient and respected tradition. Yes, its true the Bean concurred.

When we left Machan and his wife greeted me so warmly! Gunch told me that Machan had said I was welcome to come without Gunch as often as I could. I think I have a fan!